As I was rushing back to work after lunch today, with a book in my hand, I passed a raggedy homeless guy who asked me what I was reading. I said it was a 'book about books' and showed him the cover.
He read then said out loud the name of the author (Harold Bloom), then said 'ah yes Leopold Bloom', then 'Bloomsbury', then 'oh no not that' and happily waved me on my way.
I wouldn't be too surprised if the name Leopold Bloom rang nobody's bells in my office, but here was this shaggy guy whose eyes lit up at the name Bloom and was immediately struck with the name's literary associations.
How many ordinary people actually read James Joyce these days anyway??
Is this shaggy guy cool or what!
Hopefully I'll pass him again sometime so I can make a little donation to his reading fund.